There are No Miracles
by junealondra
Summary: Nobody is going to stand up for you if you don't stand up for yourself. - A Neville Longbottom fic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It's been quite a while since I posted a new story... life and stuff, ya know? Anyways, this is (again) part of the ongoing prompt challenge with me and my two fantastic friends, **Bruhaeven** and Le **Requiem**... CHECK OUT THEIR SHTUFF!

story notes: Takes place during seventh year.

disclaimer: i disclaim everything.

**Prompt: Miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now.**

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><p>"<em>Crucio…<em>" It was spoken so softly, so tentatively, that the dark curse was almost a question.

"You've got to _mean_ it when you say it, coward!" The Death Eater spat the words at the seventh year, who trembled at the prospect of torturing a fellow student.

_Professor_ Carrow, poked the girl sharply with the end of his wand, a warning for her hesitation.

A tear ran down the girl's pale face as she watched the small second-year boy before her plead with his eyes. She didn't know what his transgression was, but she was sure that neither skipping class nor wandering the halls after curfew, nor any other school-boy misdemeanor warranted this type of punishment.

But Carrow's breath was hot on the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes, her mouth quivering at the corners and furrows gathering in between her brows. But when her brown eyes opened, they were cold. Her features hardened into a scowl, and she lifted her wand.

His screaming started before she spoke, the curse drowned out by his cries for mercy. The stream of light hit him all the same, and he writhed in pain as tendrils of white light wrapped themselves around his limbs and electrified his nerves.

Carrow laughed, exposing brown, crooked teeth. Finally, after the boy's cries grew quiet with exhaustion, Carrow placed a large hand on the girl's shoulder, signaling her to stop.

She was lost.

Her brown eyes saw the pained look on the boy's face, how his body twisted in unnatural contortions, but there was no emotion behind them. They were flat. She would probably say later that she didn't register what was going on – there was no emotion in her eyes, no guilt, no sadness, because her mind had departed – gone somewhere happier for a bit. But it would be a lie. A part of her, perhaps not large but a part nonetheless, recognized what was happening and felt nothing. No remorse, and no regret. Just relief and happiness that she would be saved from experiencing the pain and suffering she saw before her.

A part of her started to enjoy it.

"Good, Susan… Very good."

It was Carrow's greasy voice that finally pulled her out of the dark trance she'd entered. With effort, she dropped her wand, breaking the curse, and looked around at the room of people. Fellow seventh-years stared in horror and disgust, and the long line of mismatched offenders looked on in dread. Their eyes closed in on the brown-haired girl, until it all became too overwhelming. Her breathing quickened, become frantic and verging on hysteria until she fell to the ground.

"Someone please accompany Miss Bones and Mr. Patterson to the Infirmary."

One of the seventh-year boys stepped forward, a Gryffindor.

"_Not_ you…. Mr. Longbottom."

Seamus stepped in front of Neville, scooping up Susan and tossing the crumpled second-year over his shoulder. He'd become strong from too many trips like this one. He gave Neville an apologetic look before disappearing into the hall with the two students draped over his body.

"Well, well, well. Mr. Longbottom. Step forward, _please_." Carrow's tone was sickly sweet. He gave Neville a dark smile, beckoning him forward.

He stepped forward to where Susan had been and he waited, staring straight ahead. His breathing was steady as Carrow carefully examined him. The Death Eater stopped with his face mere inches from Neville's.

"Well, Mr. Longbottom - _are you ready to begin the lesson_?" He sneered, again revealing dark, gnarly teeth.

Still facing Neville, Carrow's face hardened and he yelled, spraying Neville with his foul-smelling spittle.

"MISS LOVEGOOD. FORWARD."

Neville's forehead quivered slightly, betraying the barest hint of emotional duress, but Carrow caught it all the same. His face broke into that ugly smile, and he chuckled a wheezing, dark laugh.

Neville tried to keep his gaze steady, focused on something very far away and nonexistent, but he couldn't help stealing a glance at Luna.

She waltzed forward to the mark on the floor if she were stepping up to receive an award rather than to be tortured within an inch of her life by a fellow student. Her eyes were clear blue as always, but there was a dark purple ring surrounding one, which seemed to leech the vitality from her icy irises.

Her eyes… they lacked their usual shine. There was no fear in them, but there was also no hope. They were empty.

"Perform the spell."

Carrow stepped back, but still kept his eyes on Neville, who, despite his instructions, remained completely motionless.

Staring forward, trying to keep his eyes from straying back to the blonde Ravenclaw before him, Neville asked,

"What was her crime?"

Carrow's eyes narrowed, incredulous at this ridiculous question. He lifted his wand slightly, and walked back towards Neville.

"_Excuse me?_"

Neville swallowed hard, but his feet remained planted.

"I'd like to know what she's being punished for, sir."

"Ahhh, hmmm, her crime.. her crime…" Carrow paced, muttering to himself softly when suddenly, without warning, he whipped around to face Luna and bellowed.

"TELL HIM WHERE YOU WERE LAST NIGHT."

The students behind her cowered, but Luna stood still with the same soft look on her face and smiled.

"Why, I was out by the Herbology garden."

Carrow nodded, and pressed her on.

"Tell us, what time was this, Miss Lovegood?"

Several students shook their heads, hoping she wouldn't say, but, oblivious, she continued.

"I'd say it was about a quarter past midnight."

Neville's head dropped, and Carrow smiled that creepy smile.

"Well-past curfew. Surely you see know how dangerous it is to have students wandering about late at night. We could have mistaken her for an intruder, Mr. Longbottom. She must be punished."

It was silent for a moment, but finally Neville raised his head. There was a pained look on his face, and streaks where tears had cut through his cheeks.

"Why, Luna? What the hell were you _doing_ out there?"

It was only a whisper, but in the hushed room it could be heard by everyone.

She smiled and reached into her breast pocket. Carefully, she pulled out a small yellow bud.

"_Mortica Ponciferious_. It's really rare, you know."

He did know. Neville knew just about everything about Herbology.

_Mortica Ponciferious_: Flowering species in the _Mortica _family; No known relative species; Color variations - dark to buttery yellow; Thrives in desert environment; Originally native to Northern Africa; Status - endangered; Uses - none.

What he didn't know, was why Luna would risk getting caught just so she could take care of a useless, yellow flower.

"It's beautiful, don't you think?"

Carrow smacked the flower out of her hand, no longer amused by her childish ignorance.

"Enough! Perform the spell, Longbottom – NOW."

Neville shook his head slowly, a few final tears slipping into the streaks already on his face. He lifted his head and wand together, and his features, like Susan's, had hardened into a bitter and steadfast expression.

He took two steps forward, towards Luna.

Carrow watched eagerly, waiting for Neville to break and Luna to scream.

But, as he got closer to Luna, Neville slipped his wand back into his pocket and bent to pick up the small flower that Carrow had thrown to the ground.

"_What do you think you're doing? _GET OUT YOUR WAND AND CAST THE BLOODY SPELL, LONGBOTTOM."

Neville straightened, and smiled wide enough to show off the dark hole where Carrow had knocked a molar out last month. It would have been easy enough to fix, but when Madam Pomfrey had asked Neville if he would prefer some Skele-Gro or a false tooth, he just shook his head and told her he always figured he was a gap-toothed buffoon at heart.

Back in the Dart Arts classroom, Neville's grin turned into a smooth smirk as his tongue slipped between his teeth to rest cheekily in the empty space in his smile.

There was a growl of some sort from Carrow, but his frustrations made any words he spoke unintelligible.

A few of the students in the room giggled as the Death Eater began to turn a magnificent shade of maroon, but an icy glare silenced them all.

Carrow drew his wand, and, regaining _some_ of his lost composure, hissed,

"Unless you want join the students on the opposite side of the room, I suggest you hurry up and _cast the damn spell_, _Longbottom_."

Neville took a step sideways, positioning himself between Carrow and Luna, and smiled a mirthless smile.

"And what if I don't?"

Luna placed a hand on his arm, trying to pull him backwards even as he leaned forward, daring Carrow to make a move.

Carrow wasn't the most eloquent man, managing only a few sputters and head-shakings as his cheeks turned back to a blotchy red.

"I - I'll –"

Neville smirked.

"Do your worst."

…..

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><p><strong>post-notes<strong>: so... as you probably noticed, i didn't use the prompt. why? well, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it's kind of gotten out of hand. it'll probably end up being about 4-5 chapters in the end... we'll see.

so... yeah, the prompty will be incorporated - although perhaps not until the final chapter.

also, i made up the flower.

also, also, please to review? I do love me so reviews and the inspiration and joy i receive from them may or may not help me finish the story more quickly *ahem-ahem* _not trying to bribe you for reviews or anything _*ahem-ahem* what? ;)

stay tuned ya'll.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello everyoneee! So, here's the _second chapter_ of my Miracles prompty! I write oneshots (almost) exclusively, so posting a second chapter like this is like a special treat for me, haha.

If you're new to the program, this is a part of the ongoing prompt challenge I have with my two besties who I shamelessly plug in every story (**Bruhaeven. LeRequiem. **_READ THEM) _

This is for the prompt **miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now**.

enjoy, please :)

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><p>Carrow had dismissed the class, despite the fact that he still had an hour and a half to spare. Apparently his rivalry with Neville was more important than the group of detention-ees he was always happy to see broken.<p>

Most of the students fled, grateful to be free, but also scared of getting caught loitering in the halls by the other Carrow. Or worse, Snape.

A few stayed behind.

Luna. Seamus. Dean. Cho.

"How long do you think he'll keep it up?"

Seamus had returned from the hospital wing and, though he had missed the confrontation in the classroom, he hardly needed anyone to explain what was going on. He took one look at the three pacing anxiously outside of the door, and a scream from within told him all he needed to know.

"He's already been at it for twenty minutes. If Longbottom would stop laughing at the man, it'd have probably been over already. Carrow hasn't got any stamina – why d'you think he's always making students do his dirty work?"

Dean spoke calmly. He didn't look as nervous as the two girls, who were both fidgeting in their own manner. Cho was pacing up and down the corridor, back and forth, wringing her hands, while Luna carefully twirled a piece of hair around her finger, biting her lip and blinking her eyes.

Peals of manic laughter interrupted their silence, and, hearing loud bangs and thuds that sounded like tossed furniture and destructive spells. They all looked to the door, as if they could see through it to the mayhem within.

"…_insolent! Disgusting, filthy bloodtraitor! I'll teach you…."_

The laughter mixed with screams as, it appeared, the cruciatus curse began anew. Even above the noise, Carrow's frustrations could be heard.

"_Stop it! STOP LAUGHING! Goddamn it, I said – STOP!"_

Suddenly they heard a loud _thud_, and an eerie silence fell over the corridor that was far more frightening than the bumps and screams.

They all looked at each other. Dean jumped to his feet. Fiddling and fidgeting stopped, and looks of worry turned into looks of complete terror.

Terror that was not unfounded, as a sickly, hacking laughter that was not Neville's came drifting out from under the oak door.

They watched as the large golden knob turned slowly, and the heavy door creaked open.

Carrow stood in the frame, grinning smugly and covered in a horrifying freckling of blood.

For a moment, no one said a word. The four students stared at Carrow, their expressions ranging from disgust, to fear, to concern and confusion. Finally, Carrow licked his thin lips, and rubbed some of the remaining blood off of his face with the back of his wrist.

"Well – you'll be wanting to get him to hospital wing."

No one moved – still in shock. Carrow just shrugged and stepped out of the room casually. They watched as he walked away, and when he was almost at the end of the hall he turned around.

"Oh, and it's best that you'd hurry. That dirty hag will need all the time she can get to figure out how to fix him up."

These words seemed to break the spell, and brought the students' attention back to Neville, who was still in the classroom. Without another moment's hesitation, they rushed into the room together, and found Neville's body splayed out on the floor between two broken leg chairs, and two decent sized pools of blood. His eyes were open, but they didn't see a thing.

"Neville!"

Cho rushed forwards, collapsing to the ground to shake Neville's still body. Her hands went to his shoulders, but before she could make any attempt to revive him, she fell backwards in surprise. Her hands had made a disturbing squelching sound as they made contact with his body, and they appeared to sink directly into his skin. When she pulled her hands away, they were covered in a dark, sticky liquid that looked like a mixture of blood and some other bodily fluid.

"Oh my –"

Luna's voice was small, and a hand flew up to cover her mouth, which had dropped open in awe and horror.

Cho, who was only just pulling her attention away from the goo stuck on her fingers, looked to see what Luna staring at.

There, where she had placed her hands on his shoulders, were two deep handprints that cut deep into his flesh. Pools of blood slowly filled the abscesses, and as she watched, Cho began to feel very ill.

"What the bloody hell did he _do_ to him?" Seamus, who had remained fairly calm up until then, ran his fingers through his hair and began pacing.

He walked around the body and squatted down to get a closer look at the imprints. He reached out a hand, but Dean – the only clear-headed one in the group – pushed him away before he had the chance.

"Don't! He's put some sort of hex on him – you could hurt him even more…."

Seamus straightened, and, beginning to panic, pressed his palms into his eyes.

"What the hell is going on? What do we do? _What did he do to him?"_

He returned to his pacing, murmuring under his breath.

"…gonna fugging _kill _him…. I'll _kill_ him if he… _I'll fucking kill him_…"

"Seamus – we need to get him to the hospital wing."

"_How? _What did he… but… and his skin… the blood…_ I'm gonna fucking _kill _him…"_

With Seamus's frustrations making him incomprehensible, and Cho's face a nauseating green color, Dean turned to Luna.

"Luna. Will you help me move him to the hospital wing?"

Luna, usually the most dazed of the group, was alert. Her wand ready, and her gaze steely, she gave him a curt nod and moved so that she and Dean were on opposite sides of the body.

The Ravenclaw in Luna came out – strong, confident, and intelligent. She knew what to do.

"I'll cast the spell, you hold him steady. Ready?"

They both raised their wands.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _

Neville's body slowly floated away from the floor, wobbling slightly. Dean's forehead creased in concentration as he struggled to keep Neville from tipping towards the floor, while Luna's wand bobbed steadily as she her spell lifted him to waist-height.

Seamus was no longer pacing, instead staring vacantly at the operation before him. Cho, on the other hand, was lying on the floor, apparently unable to handle the gruesome curse.

Luna and Dean walked slowly towards the door, Neville balancing precariously between them.

"Seamus! Get the door – and bring Cho while you're at it."

Dean's orders snapped Finnegan back to reality, and without hesitation, he threw Cho over his shoulder and ran to open the door.

...

…

...

"Carefully! Careful, _please_! Oh dear… oh dear. Right there – the cot by the window. Oh dear…"

Madam Pomfrey abandoned the battered student she'd been bandaging and ran over to the window, trying to examine the damage even as Dean and Luna were gently floating Neville towards the bed.

The trip had taken longer than they had hoped, and the corners of Neville's lips had turned a frightening blue.

"Oh dear… This does not bode well. Oh – Mr. Finnegan, would you please put Cho in the corner over there? Yes, perfect – and get her a glass of water and some chocolate from the cabinet, would you? Thank you. Oh dear… what has that Carrow done this time?"

After close examination, as well as some gentle prodding from her wand, Madam Pomfrey straightened and rushed over to a potions cabinet, a very concerned look on her face.

"…. Oh my. Out of the way – please … _liverworts, boomslang skin, petrified bezoar … _Okay, shoo! Now! I have work to do, and not much time to do it in! … _unicorn hair? _Damn it, if only Severus weren't…"

She ran about the crowded infirmary, carrying armfuls of ingredients to a makeshift potions station set up by the restrooms. If the life of their best friend weren't on the line, her hopping about would have appeared quite comical. Luna laughed anyways, unable, as always, to conceal her bizarre, and often inappropriate reactions to life.

They stood by the bed, trying to stay out of the nurse's way. Despite their attempts to do so, she knocked into Dean and one of the glass vials she held went flying through the air, shattering on the hard floor. The liquid inside sizzled as it made contact with the stone, and it hissed as it evaporated into nothing.

"Damn it! _Please_. Come back tomorrow… or, maybe a week or… Just – I need you all to leave for now, please!"

Seamus opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get out any excuses or expletives, Dean shoved him in the direction of the door.

"C'mon Seamus, we can't do anything else. We'll see how he's doing when we visit Cho tonight."

Luna was the last to leave. She'd been listening carefully to Madam Pomfrey's mumbling, trying to figure out what was wrong with Neville from the various ingredients she listed.

She frowned though, as what she heard formed a dark and ominous solution in her mind.

But it was Madam Pomfrey's last words that echoed through her brain as she walked back to the Ravenclaw common room:

"There's no way he'll come out of this sane. Just like his parents, the poor boy."

...

...

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><p><em>postread: yes, it's a cliffhanger. i'm sorry! i'm working really, really hard on finishing the story... it's almost done, but i don't want to make any promises about quick updates or anything. i'm trying really hard though! i'm new to this longchaptered story nonsense!_

_anyways. as usual, reviews are _hugely_ appreciated and __more than welcome. concrit, flames, or love - leave it via the review button below!_

_love always,_

_junejune_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. I haven't been here in _ages_. Life has been stupid busy.

ANYWAYS, here's the next chapter of Miracles, I've actually completed the story so just some last minute touchups and separating into chapters to be done, so **don't worry**, I most definitely have not abandoned this story.

For anyone just joining us, this is a piece for the on-going (though sometimes slow-going) prompt challenge with my two best friends in the entire world **Le Requiem **and **Bruhaeven (STALK THEM, READ THEIR STORIES, THEY ARE THE BEST.)**

**prompt: Miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now.**

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><p>They came back later that evening, just like they promised. Cho was sitting up in her bed, though still a little weary. It wasn't just the incident that day – Hogwarts was different. It was only mid-October, but already it felt like everyone was at their wits' ends.<p>

"Cho! How are you? How is Neville doing?" Luna smiled as she set a few sprigs of odd flowers on the nightstand and sat at the end of Cho's bed.

Cho returned the smile, though weakly.

"I'm…tired. And Neville – I haven't heard anything. Madam Pomfrey was talking to Professor McGonagall when I woke up, but they left a few minutes ago."

They all looked towards the bed by the window, but the curtains around it were drawn.

"Well, I'll be back in a few hours to let you know how - "

McGonagall stopped abruptly when she saw the students in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey rushed forwards and began shooing them out immediately.

"Oh – Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Thomas… Finnegan… Please, no visitors right now. Ms. Chang needs her rest, and I have plenty of work to do."

Luna lifted the small pot she had brought which contained a tiny yellow flower she'd recently replanted.

"Could we see Neville for just a moment? I brought him this for when he gets better…"

Madam Pomfrey's face grew grave, and she looked to Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall's expression softened, and she turned to face Luna, though she spoke to all four of the students.

"Madam Pomfrey was able to stabilize Neville's condition, but unfortunately he had to be moved to St. Mungo's. It's unclear exactly how long he'll be staying there. I'm going to check on his condition, but I'm afraid you won't be able to see him for a while."

None of them reacted, though surely not for lack of empathy. They had all been affected by the war in different ways. Some lacked hope, while others were left in a perpetual state of shock.

The first one to speak was Luna, and it was only the smallest _"Oh." _that left her lips.

"I guess we'll come back later."

…

"Well, any news?"

Professor McGonagall stood beside the hospital bed, clasping her hands together, and waiting for the Healer to answer.

Neville's breathing was steady, but his skin was a spattered, splotchy blue and red from the bruises that had formed all over his body.

The Healer, a petite woman with dark eyes, looked to the bed and sighed heavily.

"…Well," she began slowly, "The good news is that he's alive –"

She paused, inhaling sharply. "And that he's no longer in danger of losing his life."

Again, the woman paused, uncertain, or perhaps unwilling to continue.

"Yes – but when will he wake up?"

The Healer's eyebrows came together, and she closed her eyes gently.

"I'm afraid that's the bad news; I'm not sure that he will."

…

"…Right, that's it – recite the incantation in your head…and with a gentle _flick!_ and…Good, excellent!"

They were practicing wordless magic, which was simple enough for Luna. She performed the spells effortlessly, and her mind drifted off to the strange land of imaginary thoughts where she spent most of her time.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and the room quieted. The small professor looked up from the stack of books he stood on, and watched the oaken door creep open.

"Oh, Minerva," Flitwick and the class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs let out a collective sigh of relief. Intrusions in class were infrequent, and these days the usually they were usually accompanied by bad news and bad people.

"What can I do for you, Professor McGonagall?"

McGonagall's face was severe when she spoke, although these days it seemed she always had something to be alarmed or concerned by.

"I'd like to borrow Ms. Lovegood and Ms. Chang, if you wouldn't mind Professor."

Flitwick nodded, having no idea as to the reasons for the request, but also no objections to it.

"Of course – Don't forget the homework, ladies!"

Luna and Cho were already outside of the classroom, trying to keep up with McGonagall's speedy pace, as Flitwick's high voice echoed out of the room.

"Professor –" Cho began, but was silenced by McGonagall's hand.

Never breaking her stride, she spoke swiftly and evenly.

"We'll speak in my office."

…

After winding through the halls, and up staircases, they finally reached McGonagall's large office in Gryffindor Tower.

The door opened with a creak, and McGonagall ushered the two students inside, where Dean and Seamus were waiting.

"Professor – what's this about?"

"Yeah, what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Is this about Neville?"

Luna sank slowly into one of the two large green leather chairs in the office, and closed her eyes as the other three exploded into questions, demanding explanations.

McGonagall stood behind her desk, staring into the wood grain and waiting for the questions to fade away. Eventually, they did – although not without the help of Dean, who, as usual, was the voice of reason.

Silence fell over the room, and Professor McGonagall let it remain untainted for a moment before speaking.

"Thank you all, for your patience. I know it's hard to not have any answers, so I'd like to update you all on Mr. Longbottom's current condition."

Luna, who had remained still up until this point, opened her eyes and leaned forward in the chair. The others stepped closer to the desk, and looked to face Professor McGonagall. The atmosphere was thick, and it seemed as if no one could breathe through the tension in the air.

McGonagall sighed, and slowly, uncertainly, began.

"I… I wish I had something better to tell you. Unfortunately, the news is not good."

She paused, trying to gauge their reactions, but each was unreadable in their own way.

"Although Neville has been stabilized, he lost a lot of blood and many his organs suffered from lack of oxygen… The healers at St. Mungo's have done their best, but it – it appears as though there is some lasting damage to his brain…."

"What the hell does that mean? Is he okay? Is he awake? Is he going to come back to school?"

The questions streamed out of Seamus's mouth – slurring together into one giant uncertainty.

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, though it was clear that the questions were still bouncing around behind his eyes.

McGonagall cleared her throat, and looked down, struggling with her response.

"The hex that…" She paused and looked pointedly at the four students in her office. She wasn't allowed to say the words aloud, but they all knew anyways: _The hex that Carrow cast._

"Well, it's an unpredictable hex. Some people recover fully while others suffer from hallucinations, auditory delusions, paranoia… We won't know if Neville's been affected until he wakes up. But-"

Again, McGonagall paused, trying to collect herself. Her voice shook slightly as she continued.

"—Unfortunately, there's no guarantee that he will ever wake up."

There was a solemn finality to this statement. Professor McGonagall fell into her chair, and folded her hands on the desk to keep them from quivering.

Cho began to shake as she held in sobs. Dean nodded slowly and calmly, while Seamus turned a deep red and fury entered his features.

Luna looked at McGonagall, her eyes as bright as ever, and asked slowly,

"Do you think we could visit him, Professor?"

McGonagall seemed startled, but she quickly recovered.

"Oh – Yes, of course. I was going to visit him this afternoon, and you four are more than welcome to join."

Their faces lit with something between happiness, and trepidation. It would be good to visit their friend, but the thought of seeing him battered and broken and perhaps permanently unconscious was frightening.

McGonagall interrupted their thoughts.

"But before we leave, I need to ask for a favor."

The four nodded, more than willing to comply with whatever McGonagall requested, so long as they were able to see their friend before his condition worsened.

"Augusta Longbottom is aware of the situation, and is currently at St. Mungo's, but besides you four, myself, and Madam Pomfrey, no one else knows what happened."

She held up a hand to silence Seamus, who had begun to gush about how inaccurate this statement was.

"Of course, there will always be rumors – but no one else has any proof. Rumors are just that: _rumors_. I need each of you to promise that this will be kept secret. I've told the Headmaster that Neville has returned home to take care of his grandmother and will be away from Hogwarts indefinitely. For Neville's safety, as well as your own, you would do best to stick to this story and keep quiet about things that may or may not have happened under Professor Carrow's watch."

Nobody spoke aloud, but they each nodded their promise.

McGonagall gave a single, curt nod in return, and stood.

"Well then, off to St. Mungo's, I suppose."

* * *

><p><em>post-read: I'm sorry, nothing really happens in this chapter, just boring but important stuff - ya, know? Anyways, look forward to another chapter, I'll be posting in the near future, so fear not!<em>

_and don't forget to leave a note in the comments if you loved/hated/or read this and feel like being AWESOME. 3_

_lovelove,_

_junejune_


	4. Chapter 4

It was a solemn sort of visit.

The moment she stepped out of the bright green flames and into the cold, white halls of St. Mungo's, Luna felt reality of the situation hit her.

As they walked down the long hall, smells of various herbs and medicinal plants wafted through the air. The odors were strong, magnified, it seemed, by the sterility of the clean, white building.

The party made their way slowly down the bright hall, passing through two swinging doors labeled, 'Long-Term Care Unit.'

After getting visitor's passes from the witch at the nurse's station (which took slightly longer than expected, seeing as Seamus gave her a hard time, complaining about the stupidity of the visitor's badges and demanding immediate entry to the unit), they were escorted to a large room filled with rows of white cots.

At the far corner of the room, they saw a woman who could only be Augusta Longbottom. She was taller than any of them had expected, and her stiff posture made her appear much younger than she must have been. Her long grey hair was pulled up, hidden underneath a large black hat that resembled a molting bird. She wore elbow-length lace gloves, and a deep green dress.

She looked out of place, the green of her dress and the ruby red of her large handbag clashing violently with the serene white of the hospital.

As they approached the cot, and Mrs. Longbottom came into view, they all realized every concern, every fear Neville had ever told them about his gran must be true.

Her features were bold and hardened, and it appeared as though her years had built upon her strength, rather than wearing her down.

"Augusta." McGonagall placed a hand on her old classmate's shoulder and greeted her with politeness and distance, for she knew not what to say, but she knew better than to speak to the woman before her with pity in her voice.

She was silent for a time, but, heaving a sigh that shook the feathers of her large hat, she collected herself and spoke in a manner far too jovial for the situation.

"Looks like I'm the only one left!"

Hoarse laughter erupted from her throat, but no one else joined in.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. My mother told me I was born kicking and throwing punches and I bit the doctor who pulled me out."

Here, Luna giggled – giving in to her own light temperament despite the gravity of the situation.

Seamus turned to give Luna a scathing look, obviously mistaking her method of coping with disregard for their friend.

At that moment, one of the nurses came towards the party.

"Excuse me, but the Head of Healing would like a word with the relatives. If you'd follow me please."

Augusta turned to follow the young girl and, not before giving a warning glance to the four students not to make any trouble, Professor McGonagall followed.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Cho asked once the three women had gone out of sight.

"Cho, who really gives a shit? Look here - Neville is gonna be stuck in this fuck-hole for the rest of our lives regardless of what some dumb fuck of a doctor has to say." Seamus spoke harshly. As usual, taking his strong emotions out on those around him.

After Cedric's death, Cho's emotions rarely strayed into anything other than sadness. Today was different.

"Don't get mad at me just for having a bit of hope left, Seamus. Not all of us are a cynical and rash as you are."

Seamus rolled his eyes, and shoved his hands into his pockets violently.

"Whatever you say…."

His voice trailed off and he mumbled something rude that sounded suspiciously like 'dumb chink.'

It didn't go unnoticed.

Cho lunged towards him in an uncharacteristic display of rage and ferocity, screeching expletives as she attempted to rip hair out of his scalp.

Soon, the yelps and shrieks of frightened patients joined the chorus, and even the unconscious Neville began to groan and thrash.

Nurses came pouring in through the double doors at the end of the hall, and rushed to calm the patients while Dean attempted to break up the fight between his friends.

Finally, he succeeded in getting himself between the two, and restraining Cho, he pushed Seamus away and spoke to him strictly.

"Take a walk, Finnegan."

"Me? What about that crazy bitch, hmm? Why've I got to be the one –"

Cho made a small move at the insult, but Dean released her anyways, and walked up to Seamus.

Grabbing his shirt collar, he pulled Seamus towards him until his nose was only inches away from Seamus's own beet-red face.

"I said, _take a walk_. _Finnegan._" He nearly threw Seamus as he released his grip on his collar.

Seamus stumbled backwards, almost falling before regaining his balance. He clenched his fists, and took a step towards Dean. But Dean refused to back down, instead throwing an arm out protectively in front of Cho and Luna.

"Seamus." He warned.

There was a moment of tension, but then Seamus unclenched his hands with a huff and threw his arms up in surrender as he backed away towards the double doors.

"Fine. I'm out of here."

No one spoke. The only noise came from the nurses who were still trying to calm down all of the patients in the large room. They stood there a long while.

Cho was the first to speak, letting out a long, trembling sigh.

"I'm sorry – I just, I can't. I'm going to find McGonnagall. I'll see you both at school again, yeah?"

Without waiting for a response, she too disappeared through the double doors.

And then it was just Dean and Luna. A nurse came by to check on Neville, but, satisfied that his condition was stable, she left.

After a moment, Luna pulled a shoe out of her small purse.

"Luna - are you serious?"

Luna hummed lightly, but otherwise ignored this comment from Dean, who was finally starting to crack under the pressure of trying to keep all of his friends from driving each other completely mad. Not that he could help Luna. She was already mad, it seemed.

She placed the dirty shoe on Neville's bedside table.

"There. Isn't that lovely?"

Dean laughed, a sort of crazed laugh, but inspected the shoe a little more closely, and found that it wasn't just dirty... it was filled with dirt. And in the middle of that pile of dirt, there was a small sprout, with the tiniest of little buds.

Of course. A flower.

So Luna wasn't as crazy as he thought.

But then he remembered that she'd planted it inside of a shoe. Okay, still crazy.

He smiled sadly and placed a hand on Luna's shoulder.

"Neville will love it."

Luna smiled in return, but didn't look away from the boy laying in the bed.

"I hope that he's awake to see it bloom."

"Mr. Thomas, Ms. Lovegood... We need to head back to school soon, please say your goodbyes to Mr. Longbottom."

Professor McGonnagall had merely poked her head into the room before disappearing again. Presumably to give the friends some privacy.

Dean looked at Neville and nodding his head slowly, said to his unconscious friend,

"We'll see you soon Neville."

He then looked to Luna, and, seeing the expression on her face, left the room, allowing her a few moments to herself.

Luna's fingers caressed the small sprout in the shoe, and she watched Neville's face carefully. She could see his eyes darting around beneath his dark lids. Gently, she moved her fingers from the plant to Neville's eyelids, and felt the frantic movement below her feathery touch.

Dropping to her knees, so she was level with Neville's face, she watched his pained expression and whispered softly.

"What are you looking at, Neville?"

* * *

><p><em>an: I think this chapter is a little bit shorter than the others, but this was a good ending before the next section. anyways, I always love me some reviews so leave some love (or hate) via the review box below!_

_june_


	5. Chapter 5

Neville blinked his eyes open slowly, and then promptly wished he hadn't.

He shut his eyes tight, hoping to will away the images that couldn't be real.

Carefully, he opened one eye, but they were still there.

"Mum? Dad?"

He was laying in a hard, white cot. A hospital bed. That at least made sense. But standing on either side of his bed were his parents, dressed in the pale blue pajamas given to patients. That also made sense…sort of.

His mother reached out and clasped her son's hand – interrupting his confused thoughts.

Neville looked up into her eyes. Her brown, _lucid_ eyes, with crinkles around the corners as she smiled.

She squeezed his hand, and he looked down, still not believing what was going on. There, on his mom's wrist, was a blue wristband that read "Longbottom, Alice. St. Mungo's for…"

He tried to turn her hand so he could read the rest (though he already knew what it read – he'd seen it hundreds of times before) but at that moment his father placed a hand on his other shoulder.

Neville searched his eyes, but again found nothing but lucidity.

"What's… Are…."

Neville struggled for a moment with the question he wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but finally he managed to ask,

"Are you real?"

His parents smiled to one another, like they were laughing at some inside joke together, and his mom spoke.

"I guess that depends, sweetheart."

Neville groaned and wrenched himself out of his parents' grasp, pressing his eyes into his palms roughly, as though trying to erase the mirages before him.

"I'm crazy… I'm going crazy… I've lost it…"

Again, his parents looked at one another with that curious little glimmer in their eyes. This time, however, they laughed aloud – a gentle, rocking sort of chuckling that drew Neville out from behind his hands.

But when he looked up, his parents had disappeared, though their laughter persisted.

Instead, his bed was surrounded by men and women clothed in flowing black cloaks. Their faces, however were hidden behind bone-white masks.

Death Eaters.

Neville screamed as their hands reached out, trying to touch him – grab him. He fought to get away, but there was nowhere to go.

One of them reached out to touch his face, stroking his head maternally with one hand. With the other, it removed the mask. Behind the mask, wild eyes and tangled hair appeared. With razor teeth, she smiled.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and, in his mother's voice, whispered into his ear.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

….

Was it days? Or hours, maybe? Perhaps it was even weeks.

Neville felt himself tumble through the depths of his mind, slipping in and out of lunacy. Was this what it felt like? Being crazy?

It was a horrible, sickening sensation. He tried to grasp onto the shreds of truth that remained in his mind, but, like feathers, they twisted and twirled just beyond his grasp, tickling his nose before drifting away into the abyss.

And then there was always that face.

Bellatrix Lestrange. Haunting his mind with her wild hair and crazed eyes. She laughed at him, taunted him, and he couldn't ever get far enough away. She always returned.

She always returned.

….

Neville bolted upright, sweating, scared. His body felt weak, but somehow, things were different. Silvery moonlight drifted in through the large window in the hall.

For once, there was no one around – no Death Eaters, no Bellatrix, no parents…. he was alone in this large hall, surrounded only by the sounds of other patients slow breathing.

Suddenly, his own breathing began to quicken, and his heart started to race as he realized the obvious truth before him.

Everything was sharper, everything was clear – from the pain in his limbs to the sounds of the building's ventilation.

This was real. He was awake… _really _awake.

Neville's adrenaline kicked into overdrive and he leapt/tumbled out of his bed, not wanting to lose this moment of clarity.

"Help! Help me…."

His voice cracked, coarse from lack of use. He scrambled towards the doors making as much noise as he could, hoping that someone would hear him and come help him. He didn't want to go back to that dark, murky dreamworld… the doctors, the nurses – they could help him, he just had to find someone.

"Please – anyone, help!"

He made it to the two doors at the end of the room, and crashed through them on unsteady legs. The sound awoke the nurse sitting at the desk on night duty, she gasped and ran over to help support Neville, who was leaning against the wall in order to stay upright.

She threw one of Neville's arms over her shoulder and started to walk him back towards the large room of cots. Neville was surprised at how strong she was – or perhaps how weak _he_ was.

"Alright, it's okay, let's get you back to bed – okay?"

Suddenly, Neville panicked. He didn't want to go to sleep again, ever. He couldn't go back, he had to stay awake.

He started yelling some unintelligible protests and struggled vainly against the large nurse. Still, he managed to slip out of her grasp and flung himself onto the floor, knowing he couldn't get away, but also that he couldn't go back into that room.

"Please! Please don't make me – please I have to stay awake, please, I can't! I can't go back… _please_!"

The nurse tried to pick Neville up off the floor, but his aggravation gave him a physical strength that far exceeded what his body should have been capable of in this state.

The nurse straightened, and, with a flick of her wand, sent a silver rooster shooting down the halls – a patronus calling for backup, no doubt.

Within minutes, several more attendants came streaming into the room. Together, they picked Neville up off the floor easily. He continued to struggle, but this time to no avail. He was weak.

Instead, he felt his face become damp with the sweat and tears that streamed down his cheeks, and he moaned, not wanting to go back into that horrific sleep state.

"Please, please, you don't understand - _I can't go back there._"

He pleaded with one of the attendants closest to him, a young man who looked less harsh than the rest of the group.

"_Please_."

The young man seemed to sympathize, but he broke the gaze, looking at the floor instead of into Neville's crazed eyes.

When they finally got him to his bed, Neville got a second wave of strength. Being in the bed again made him remember the horrors even more vividly. He thrashed about, becoming more vicious and violent in his attempts to escape.

"No! NO. No – Stop! Let me go!"

He bit one of the attendants trying to hold his head down, at once tasting the bitter coppery taste of blood.

At this particular act of desperation, the large nurse who had first found Neville spoke to one of the attendants.

"We'll need some sedative here – quickly."

The attendant sprinted out of the hall and Neville, who had heard the order, began fighting even more fervently.

Before long, however, the attendant returned, and, though he pleaded, he felt the needle enter his arm.

The sedative worked quickly, and soon, it became hard for Neville to move his limbs. Slowly, the attendants began to release their grip on the patient.

Darkness started hovering around the corners of his vision, but before he let go of reality, Neville realized a question that lingered in his mind, which would have been obvious to ask if he weren't so distressed.

He turned and looked at one of the attendants, coincidentally, the young, unaffected attendant.

"How long have I been here?"

The attendant was confused by the question, which caught him off guard after the shocking violence the patient had displayed just moment's before. But Neville felt the darkness growing quickly, and his tongue felt lazy as he asked again,

"…mmplease hahhow long hafve I beenhere?"

It was the larger nurse who answered him, as she stroked his hair back.

"Just over a week, sweetheart."

And just like that, her features morphed and twisted, and, throwing her head back, she laughed a horrible piercing laugh, as wild hair exploded into a mane of black and white streaked hair. Her eyes widened, and then, Neville was looking at Bellatrix once again.

"Welcome back, Neville lovie."

* * *

><p><em>postnotes: Sooooooooo, I thought that I had posted the rest of this ficcy - it's been finished and sitting in my computer for a while now. I feel badly about it. I shall be posting the rest promptly. <em>

_as always, feel free to leave some love (or hate) via the review button below. _

_junejune._


	6. Chapter 6

One day, or night, or morning, because time was really irrelevant in the muddy nightmarish world, something different happened.

As Neville laid on his bed, struggling to get away from the visions that haunted his dreams, albeit with less fervor and strength he had in the past, he heard a voice – one he hadn't heard before…

Staring into Bellatrix's horrible eyes, he heard a voice that didn't belong to his parents, or his friends, or even Bellatrix herself. He didn't think he'd ever heard this voice before, and it was explaining things he didn't understand. The voice wound in and out of the dream, like a radio that's not quite tuned properly.

"….elevated levels of activity in the cerebral…..indicates that perhaps…. it could be possible that he will…."

Neville strained to listen, but the Bellatrix in his dreams clamped her hands over his ears at that point, and, though he could see her lips moving still, speaking these words that weren't her own, he couldn't make anything out.

Everything returned once again to the nightmarish oblivion.

….

It was maybe the third or fourth time that this mysteriously strange voice entered his dreams that Neville was finally able to place where he'd heard it before; It belonged to the nurse – the one who had been on duty the night he had had his fleeting moment of lucidity.

As the realization dawned upon him, he suddenly saw a way out of the hellish nightmare he was trapped it. This voice, this was his connection to reality – if he could only focus on the voice long enough to find his way back to the hospital…

"…Well, nothing's changed, everything seems to be – oh wait, it looks like…"

Neville clung to the words that drifted through his mind like a radio from the heavens. He closed his eyes, and tried to follow the words back to reality, swimming through the muck of his mind, grasping onto those words, focusing until he could hear them more clearly…

He nearly jumped as the voice he had been focusing on so intently became shrill suddenly.

"Excuse me! You can't be in here now, ma'am – visiting hours have been over for quite sometime, hey what are you – "

Then Neville heard a new voice, one he would recognize anywhere.

"That insolent boy who refuses to wake up is my grandson, and I believe I have the right to see him whenever I please, you disgusting wench."

"I'm going to have to insist that you leave Ms. Longbottom, we simply cannot –"

"I said, I'll do as I please, hag!"

"I'm going to have to inform my superiors and get security to remove you from the facilities Ms. Long—"

"Do what you will, I'm not leaving."

Neville could almost hear the huff of exasperation that the nurse gave, and he _did_ hear the clack of her shoes against the cold, tile floor as she left the room in a hurry. Though he still wasn't able to open his eyes or feel his body (his real body), it felt as though reality was slowly materializing in front of him.

"Alright, boy, I don't have long, so you better get your lazy arse up before those impotent doctors and nurses come back."

She was speaking to him. His Grams was speaking to him. He felt like one of them must be crazy, but he honestly wasn't sure who.

He sat there, or laid there, drifting in limbo between dream and reality. He didn't know how he was supposed to try and wake up, or how to fight his way towards the surface when -

_WHOMP_.

"Get _up!"_

As his Grams yelled at his less-than-conscious body, she hit him, with something Neville couldn't identify, in a place he couldn't identify. He only felt the pain.

He shrank away from the hurt, until he realized that as he did so, his grasp on reality was slowly slipping away as well.

He realized.

He felt her hit him again, and this time he focused on the pain, trying to pinpoint where on his body it was. He found it, and then his awareness started to expand outward from the spot. It was his stomach, and then suddenly he could feel his ribs and his legs and his arms and his neck and his ears and his fingers and his eyes and -

"_What are you doing to him?"_

His eyes flew open and with a shaking, ragged breath he sat upright in the bed, just in time to see the doctor and nurse running towards his bed, as his Grams lifted a loaf of hard bread high above her head, poised for another blow.

"Oh, you're awake."

His Grams smiled, shrugged, and hit him squarely on his head with the stale loaf.

Neville cringed, and the doctor and nurse looked at the old woman, appalled.

"What the hell was that for?" Neville rubbed the back of his head, and prepared himself for another blow.

"That was for being so stubborn, and this is for being stupid enough to get yourself in this mess to begin with."

Fortunately, the doctor stepped in at that point, grabbing the bread from the semi-crazed woman. He shook his head, unable to speak, and left the hall, staring at the bread in his hand.

The nurse, on the other hand, was rooted to the spot, in too much shock to make her legs move.

"It - but…He's awake."

Neville continued to stare warily at his Grams, while Ms. Longbottom rolled her eyes at the dumbstruck nurse.

"Yes, thank you. _Very_ astute."

The sarcasm rolled right off the dazed nurse, who continued to gape at Neville.

"But….I don't…. _He's awake_."

Augusta rolled her eyes (again) and mumbled some sort of crude remark under her breath.

"But, the damage sustained, and the curse and…. It-it's a miracle!"

Ms. Longbottom looked at the nurse and in the most condescending, disgusted tone, spat,

"It wasn't a miracle – There are no miracles. It was that loaf of bread the doctor just walked out of here with. And if my grandson weren't so stubborn, and you lot weren't so foolish, this would have all been cleared up long ago. _Miracles_…. pshhhh. Now come on Neville dearie, we're leaving this dump."

The woman grabbed her grandson by the collar and tugged, trying to pull Neville up and out of the bed. He moved with the jerky motion, trying to avoid getting choked. Thankfully, the nurse (finally) found her wits (and her feet) and moved forward, breaking the Augusta's hold.

"Okay! Okay… _Please_ – Just go have a seat downstairs, I'll get him all ready to leave."

Augusta looked at the nurse's frightened expression, and then to Neville, who was currently rubbing the thick red line left on his neck by all the tugging and pulling.

With an unhappy _hmmph!_ Augusta turned and walked towards the double doors.

"I'll be back in an hour… and you'd better be ready to go back to school by then, _boy. _I'm done dealing with all of this idiotic tomfoolery."

….

Although the nurse tried her best to take care of her patient, Neville refused her help, instead throwing on his laundered, but still blood-stained school robes he'd been admitted in and rushing off to a wing he knew well.

….

"Hiya, Mum."

Neville smiled softly as his mother turned away from a fork she'd been studying intently to look at his face. Her eyes narrowed and she grumbled something under her breath to the fork in her hand before addressing her son.

"Well then! It's about time you got here. Have you any idea how long I've been waiting?"

Neville shrugged slightly, wondering who he was going to have to be today. There was a sad twinkling hiding behind his eyes, and it was with incredible patience and strength that he managed to play along with the mad woman before him.

"I'm terribly sorry… what can I do for you?"

Alice Longbottom gave a dissatisfied grunt, and crossed her arms.

"Well – First you can shut that damn door. The noise from the hall is just incredible. And then, open the blinds, honey, I need some sunshine; it's terribly depressing in here."

Neville did as he was told, and then stood awkwardly beside the window – not sure what to do next, or what might upset his mum.

They stayed that way for a bit – Neville standing in the corner, and his mother staring at the fork – when finally she spoke again.

"I'm trying to figure out what I found so fascinating about this fork. I'm pretty sure I remember telling it stories about when you were a child. I don't know why I thought it would be rational to talk to a fork. Funny how madness works, isn't it?"

Neville looked at his mum, dumbstruck.

"I… about me? Wait… what? Are you…I don't understand."

Was she lucid? She was talking about being crazy… so did that make her sane? Maybe she was just getting crazier.

"Oh honey."

She stood up, her thin frame looking incredibly frail, but at the same time, there was a strength in her posture that Neville hadn't seen in ages.

"I've missed you, Neville dearie."

She reached her arms around her son, holding him against her small body. Slowly, cautiously, Neville wrapped his own arms around his mum.

She pulled away, placing one hand on either of his cheeks and studied his face carefully.

"You've grown so much. I'm so proud of you, Neville. No matter what."

Neville tried to find his voice, choking a few times before finally managing to speak.

"Mum – How… How long have you been… Are you really here? Is this real?"

She laughed a bubbly laugh – so different from the mad laughter Neville had been accustomed to hearing from her. It startled him a bit, stirring up ancient memories from a time he wasn't even sure he really remembered.

"Why, of course this is real, sweetheart!"

She said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Why wouldn't it be real? Why shouldn't his mum have secretly emerged from a decade-long hiatus from reality? Why not?

"But… Mum," Neville spoke carefully, thinking about each word that left his mouth; it had been a while since he'd addressed his mother as a sane individual, and he had trouble choosing his words.

"Mum, if you're sane, then what are you still doing here? Why haven't you come back home, or come to see me?"

Her still-sunken eyes grew large and she shook her head violently, reminding Neville that she might not actually be sane after all, and placed a hand on her son's shoulder.

She lifted a single finger and pointed right at Neville's face, a silent gesture that at once admonished and warned her son that her next words would be grave.

"There is a war going on Neville, and this family has got to protect itself. I won't lose myself again. When all this has ended, I'll come back to you, and we'll be a family again, Neville. But until then, no one can know that I've returned…. I'm _safe _here, Neville, and so are you. You cannot return to Hogwarts. You have to stay here until this violence… the death…. until _He_ is finally dead, we must keep ourselves _safe_."

As his mother spoke, he wondered what had happened to her. How had his mother, an Auror and a member of the original Order of the Phoenix become a coward?

After all his mother had been through, it seemed harsh to think of her as a coward, but the way she was talking – hiding, waiting, watching – it was a coward's strategy.

Neville pulled himself out of his mother's grasp and pushed her back down toward the bed. Stepping away, he shook his head.

"No, Mum, I'm going ba-"

"You can't! I forbid it!"

She stood up, small, but defiant. There was a small spark of energy behind her eyes, but overall, Neville could see she was tired, worn down by a life of troubles and hallucinations.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go back. I have to help protect –"

She grasped his arm, this time her eyes pleading.

"Please, Neville. Even now…it's a miracle you're alive at all–"

"No."

Again, Neville wrenched himself from his mother's grasp.

"It's not a miracle. I fought, Mum, and so can you."

For a moment, they looked at one another, silent. But neither could find anything to say, so at last, Neville turned and walked towards the door.

With a final look at the woman behind him, Neville spoke.

"Goodbye, Mum."

The door slammed shut, and Alice jumped slightly at the sound.

Defeated, she collapsed onto her cot and sighed.

"Good luck, Neville dearest."

* * *

><p><em>postnotes! yay, second to last chapter! the last chapter will be a lot shorter, I thought about including it this one, but I thought it was better to have two separate chapters.<em>

_anyways, please leave some love (or hate) via the review button below, reviews make the world go round!_

_junejune._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: yay! last chapter! it's a bit shorter than the other chapters, but that's okay. I finally use the promptie in this one! in case you've forgotten, which you probably have because I nearly have, this is part of the ongoing prompt challenge with my two best friends in the whole wide world_ **Bruhaeven** and **Le Requiem**.

_prompt: **Miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now.**_

* * *

><p>Neville stepped into the Gryffindor common room and set his suitcase on the creaky oak floor. It was late, but the moon shining through the tall windows, and the fire softly crackling in the hearth bathed the room in a smooth, dusky light.<p>

He glanced around the room, looking carefully at the sleeping portraits of men and women he'd never really paid much attention to before. He let out a deep sigh. It felt like years since he'd been at Hogwarts, and returning to the Gryffindor common room felt like home.

"Neville?"

Neville started, just now noticing a sleepy figure sitting in one of the large red armchairs.

"Neville! How are you?"

Ginny raced across the room, and nearly knocked Neville down with a sleepy, off-balance, three-in-the-morning hug.

"Neville, we've all missed you so much, how have you been?"

Neville grinned widely as he pulled himself out of Ginny's bear hug and slowly collected himself.

"Yep – Well…all checked out, and good as new. How about you? How are things here? I haven't really had time to catch up with everything…."

He turned to look out of the window, and watched as a light snow fell slowly from the sky, snowflakes landing softly on turrets and towers below. That first week, when he had woken up in the hospital, had seemed like an eternity, but after that the time seemed to fly by.

It was February.

He looked back at Ginny, who had become silent.

"It's been…difficult."

He waited for her to continue, and for a moment it looked like she might, but the silence was too strong.

Her sadness was contagious, and Neville struggled to find something to say.

"Well…. Well what about the D.A.? Luna and Cho, Seamus and Dean, how is everyone?"

A deep sigh from Ginny let Neville know this was not the right question. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts before she finally replied, trying to remain strong and stick to the facts.

"Seamus… on the run. Luna… abducted. And the D.A…. well, with the three of you gone… And it's been hard to get everyone together all at once and… Neville?"

While she'd been talking, Neville had begun to root around his suitcase. Not looking up from his case, he asked Ginny urgently,

"Do you have your D.A. coin with you, Ginny?"

It took her a moment to process the question, and catch up with Neville's rapid shift from laid-back to frantic.

"Uh… Well, not _on_ me, but upstairs?"

Still not quitting from his search, Neville replied,

"Yes! Okay – Can you get it? Great…"

Ginny returned quickly, but apparently not fast enough for the distressed Neville who had begun to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace while she had been gone.

"Super! Great Ginny, thanks."

Taking the shiny coin from Ginny, he held it in his hand, tightly, thinking hard about what he wanted it to say. It grew hot and Neville opened his eyes, and his hand and, smiling, flipped the coin to Ginny.

She caught it (barely) and after some minor fumbling managed to turn the coin to its face.

It hummed slightly, buzzing in her hand as she read: _NOW_.

She looked up to Neville (still smiling) who grabbed her arm.

"Let's go!"

….

The air was tense, as they waited in the Room of Requirement. It was chilly in the room – probably the Room's way of keeping everyone awake in the early hours of the morning. It really was an extraordinarily genius space – even by Hogwart's standards.

There were a few whispers between friends, but, although everyone saw Neville, no one approached him. Instead, he stood calmly, sternly, at the head of the room and watched as, one by one, or two by two, the members of Dumbledore's Army gathered.

….

"Nobody is going to stand up for you if you don't stand up for yourself.

Nobody is going to fight for you if you don't fight for yourself.

People may try to tell you who you are, and unless you set them straight, they'll go on believing whatever they please until you speak up.

There was a time when I believed what others said about me. Like them, I wondered if the Sorting Hat had been mistaken when it yelled "Gryffindor!" all those years ago. I wondered what a cowardly kid like myself was doing with the most brash and brave students at Hogwarts.

I felt like such a phony every time I put on that maroon and yellow tie – I could feel it choking me as I tried desperately to act like someone I wasn't.

I got up each morning, ready for someone to tell me there'd been a mistake, or to tell me that it was okay that I was in Gryffindor, or… to tell me _something_.

But no one ever did.

I waited for a long time. Always expecting that someone _else_ would tell me how to live my life.

But now let _me_ tell _you_: It doesn't work like that.

We decide our own fates. We make the choices that will define our lives. We cannot expect someone else to dictate how we live; We cannot allow it."

He paused, gazing at the expectant faces of the D.A. in front of him. The silence lengthened as Neville waited, but still no one spoke.

When he could feel every pair of eyes, he slowly began again.

"Some people don't think that we will ever be able to defeat Lord Voldemort. Others believe it'll take a miracle. They sit around, waiting, hoping for something to happen while they do absolutely nothing.

So maybe it will take a miracle to win this war, but miracles don't just happen; Miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked around once more. With a mischievous look in his eyes he clapped his hands together and smiled.

"Let's do this, people."

* * *

><p><em>postnotes! HIIIIIIII I hope you like the story, it's my only real chaptered ficcy so far (even though it started out as a one shot and got a little longer than appropriate one-shot length). originally this story started out as <em>just_ the very last part where Neville is giving his speech and then it just exploded from there. _

_anywhooo, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading! if you did (or even if you didn't) leave some love via the review button below!_

_junejune_


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